


Mission Paris

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/M, M/M, tomarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23423764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Relationships: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy(Briefly), Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Tom Riddle/Draco Malfoy(Briefly)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

“Yes, Hermione, I know!” Harry exclaimed as he held his phone a few inches away from his ear. “Please stop yelling,” he said, “I’m on my way!” He hung up as he pushed open the door of his favourite cafe, Three Broomsticks.

“Hello, dear,” Madam Rosemerta called from behind the counter. “The usual?”

“Yes please, and could I get it to go? Hermione’s already mad at me,” Harry said sheepishly.

Rosemerta laughed. “Maybe try being on time?” she suggested as she moved about, preparing his hazelnut espresso.

“But then I wouldn’t be able to bask in your presence, Rosie,” Harry said with a dramatic sigh. Fortunately, the cafe was almost empty, considering it was office hours. Unfortunately, it meant that he was very late, and not in his office where he should have been.

“Thanks, Rosemerta!” Harry rushed out of the cafe, gulping the scalding coffee as he ran the last two blocks to reach Fortescue’s Incorporated.

  
  
  


**__________________________________________**

As he pushed open the glass door after receiving the usual sneer from Filch, Harry realised that he still did not know what Fortescue’s Incorporated actually did.

‘I really need to ask Albus about it someday,’ he thought to himself as he got into the elevator and pressed the buttons “62442”.

**__________________________________________**

  
  
  


“It only took you thirty years to get here!” A cocoa-skinned, curly haired woman said with her hands on her hips as soon as the elevator doors opened.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Albus wants you in his office. Right now,” she ushered him towards the oak door at the end of the hallway, which had a gargoyle statue on either side. It looked _very_ out of place in the sleek white hallway with black mouldings and glass doors, but no one had the heart to tell the old man that, not when he was so very fond of it.

He knocked twice before entering.

“Ah, Harry, my boy. Do sit down!” The white haired man guiltily took his hand out of the bowl of candies he kept on his desk.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he went to sit down. He paused for a second to inspect the chair. Albus Dumbledore was known for playing practical pranks on his agents to ‘keep them on their toes’.

He personally thought Albus just enjoyed taking the mickey out of them.

“So, what have you called me here for? I was sure you were giving me a paid vacation for the next three months.”

Albus’ demeanour changed. Harry sat up straighter. Sitting behind the desk was the man who ran the biggest private spy agency in Europe.

“The Reapers are planning something big. There are rumours of a weapons deal in France that is going to take place soon at the gala at Marriott Rive Gauche.” The serious look on his face was warning enough for Harry about how serious this was going to be.

“And you need someone to go in. How do I get entry into one of the biggest jamboree of the decade?”

“We have an asset, don’t worry about that. Evans Granger and Hermione Granger are heading to Paris tomorrow.”

Harry regretted waking up that morning.

**__________________________________________**

  
  
  


“Well? What did he want?” Hermione asked, sitting on his desk as he fell into his chair. 

“Well, sister dearest, we leave on a French vacation tomorrow.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Another mission, so soon? I thought he was going to send you on a compulsory vacation for the next three months. I was looking forward to having a less insane field agent to coordinate.”

“The Reapers are on the move again. You know he’s worried about the weapons entering England.”

“Well, at least I can go shopping in Paris.” Hermione might not have been a girly girl, but Harry knew she could shop for hours without getting tired. Was it a female superpower?

He raised an eyebrow. “France does not equal Paris, you know.”

Hermione snorted. “Please, the biggest event of the decade. Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

  
  


**__________________________________________**

  
  
  


“We'll have a man meet you at the airport,” Albus explained at their final briefing. “He’ll be more up to date on the local situation.”

“Description?” Hermione asked, checking her watch every two seconds.

Albus began climbing back into the black sedan that had dropped them to the airport.

“I haven't the faintest clue. He'll have a sign for 'Granger', I imagine. Fly safe!”

And he was gone.

“Dammit, Albus!?” Harry complained to the air. Hermione’s raised eyebrow made him continue defensively, “Would it kill him to line everything ahead of time?”

“Probably," she said, wheeling her suitcase behind her as she began walking away. "He's more of the fire-and-forget type. You knew that when you signed up, too late to regret it now."

Harry looked up at the sky.

"Paris, here we come."

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Paris ready for the Granger twins?

“Do you see a sign for Granger anywhere?”

Harry looked incredulously at Hermione. “You’re asking me, the person with terrible eyesight, whether he can see a sign at least a hundred metres away and probably written in a tiny scrawl?”

“Where are your glasses?!” Hermione looked at him incredulously. 

Harry scratched the back of his neck. “I-uh- I bought these contacts, but turns out they were the wrong prescription, so everything is quite blurry right now.”

“How on earth did you manage to become one of the best agents- Oh look, I see our names!”

Harry looked at the spot Hermione was gesturing towards. A lanky redhead stood there, with a sign Harry guessed was saying ‘Evans and Hermione Granger.’

“Hello, I’m Ron Weasley. You must be Evans and Hermione?” he said when the duo were close enough.

Hermione spoke for both of them. “We are.”

“Nice to meet you. If you’ll follow me,” he said, lifting Hermione’s suitcase before turning around.

Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance. Harry shrugged. Hermione narrowed her eyes. Harry pointed to the redhead’s back, who had started walking. Hermione sighed, and they followed him to a black sedan.

The car ride was mostly silent, except for when Ron pointed out a few landmarks. The trio got out at a pub, which had the ‘Closed’ sign at the door but Ron pushed it open anyways.

“Welcome to The Burrow,” Ron said with a sweep of his hand. “It’s a family owned business.”

The pub was small, but clean and cozy. It was well-lit, with several tables and chairs in the center of the room, a bar on one side, and a staircase that Harry guessed led to the rooms.

“Welcome, dearies!” A redhead woman bustled in, and hugged Hermione, then Harry. “You must be Hermione and Evans! I’m Molly Weasley. I trust your journey was comfortable?” She asked. “Oh, you must be hungry, sit down, sit down,” she gently pushed them to a table.

“Fred, George, take our guests’ luggage upstairs, won’t you?”

Two twins appeared from the darkness of the stairwell. Harry stared. They were tall, but less lanky than their brother. They were also extremely similar, and there was no way Harry would have been able to tell them apart had he not noticed the silver scar on the left one’s ear.

“Hello, I’m Gred,” said the one on the left.

“And I’m Forge!” the other continued.

“And we are the Weasley twins!”

Molly had appeared again with a bowl and a ladle, which she used to hit both of them on the back of their heads. “Stop it, you two! And get the luggage to their rooms. 103 and 105,” she huffed before turning to Harry and Hermione.

A girl appeared with some cutlery that she set in front of them, and Molly began dishing out soup, some bread, and a few dishes Harry didn’t recognise.

Seeing his lost expression, the girl sat at the table with them.

“That’s soupe de poisson à la rouille. That’s mum’s famous French bread, nothing better in all of Sentier Bonne Nouvelle.” The French names rolled off her tongue easily. 

“Everything else are English classics. Bangers and mash, and the Weasley special Cobbler.”

Hermione looked extremely interested, but Harry was more focused on filling his empty stomach without seeming impolite.

“You can start eating,” their host’s daughter said with a laugh. “I’m Ginny.”

  
  


After a hearty meal and a meeting with the patriarch of the family, Arthur Weasley (who was extremely interested in Britain and wanted to know about every little thing), Ron led them up to their rooms, which were right next to each other. 

“Would you prefer a brief now, or in the morning?”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. “Now sounds good,” Hermione answered for both of them.

Ron opened a door at the end of the hallway. It seemed like a cozy office, with four chairs, a wooden table, and a couple of bookshelves. Everyone took a seat.

“Does your entire family work for Dumbledore?” Harry asked, breaking the silence.

“No, just Fred, George and me. My parents were quite close with him though. Anyways, I expect Hermione will be your handler?” At their nods, he continued.

“We have eyes on a man named Draco Malfoy. Evans, you will approach him at the  Marriott Rive Gauche. The file with all the information you will require,” Ron passed over a black binder two inches thick.

Harry took it. “That’s a lot,” he said wearily. Hermione patted his head. 

“I’ll help.”

“You have two weeks before the gala,” Ron said. “I’ll let you rest now, it must have been a long day.”

  
  
  


____________________________________

  
  
  


Harry collapsed onto the neatly made bed, kicking off his shoes and pulling the comforter over him. Next door, he could hear Hermione’s radio playing if he strained his ears, as she went about what she called her ‘night routine’. He stared at the wooden ceiling, before sighing. Tomorrow, he was not going to be Harry anymore. He turned over and shut his eyes.

  
  
  


____________________________________

  
  
  


“Rise and shine, brother!”

Harry groaned and tugged the covers over his head. 

“Evans! Get up!” The blanket was ripped off him and sunlight made the back of his eyelids glow.

“Tis too early,” Harry said with a groan, sitting up and screwing his eyes shut even tighter.

Hermione scoffed as she threw open his suitcase, careful not to jostle the hidden compartment as she dug around for a suitable outfit.

“Here,” she said, throwing him a pair of jeans and a shirt. “Molly has breakfast ready and we leave right after.”

Harry was pulling on his shirt when Hermione’s words came back to him.

“Herm, where are we going?!”

“Ron’s taking us around the city!” she called back from his room. Harry left the shower to find her typing on a laptop. “Albus wants to know how we’re doing,” she answered his unasked question, before shutting the laptop and climbing off his bed.

“Let’s go, I can smell breakfast and it’s heavenly!” Harry’s stomach growled on cue, and he hurried after her.

  
  


____________________________________

  
  


“That’s the place,” Ron said as the trio walked past a grand white marble building. Hermione glanced back. 

“Oh my god, it’s stunning,” she gushed. “Do you think they would let us in?”

Ron shook his head. “They’ll be getting all the security in place, the gala is  _ huge. _ ”

Hermione sighed. “Alright.”

“Come on, there’s a really famous cafe nearby,” Ron said, leading them across the road and down a block.

“They have the best ice creams,” the redhead said enthusiastically as he pushed open the door to  _ Slytherin Sundaes.  _ “The company leaves a little to be desired, but the food makes up for it,” he added as he glanced around, presumably looking for a booth. 

His companions took the moment to take a look around. The cafe looked extremely posh, like a rich people's place. Hermione spotted an empty booth and tapped Ron on the shoulder, only to notice that the other man was frozen.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. 

“Harry, your contact’s in sight,” Ron said without a preamble, and the emerald eyed man followed his gaze to a blond man sitting alone at a table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my writer's block is extreme. It took me way to long to write this, and I'm sorry about that :( I'll try to be better, but now that school's started full fledged, I'm not really sure how often I'll be able to write. I will not, under any circumstances, be abandoning my stories though!
> 
> You can find me on [discord](https://discord.gg/UPCmW2r)!


	3. Chapter 3

“But I haven’t read the file yet!” Harry hissed.

Hermione shoved him towards the blond man. “Doesn’t matter. Go seduce him.”

“Hermione-” One glance back at his sister and Ron told him that they weren’t going to let him get out of this.

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and steeled himself before slowly making his way to the counter.

He flashed a charming smile at the barista, “I’ll take a decaf soy latte with caramel and two creams, thank you,” he said, pulling out the credit card Albus provided for such situations.

His usual order was definitely not this obnoxious, but a glance at the people inhabiting the different corners of the cafe had told him what sort of place it was. The rich people sort. Which meant that Draco Malfoy was one of them, and would turn his nose down on anyone who ordered a normal espresso.

  
  


____________________________

  
  


He walked towards the table the blond was seated at, with a laptop open.

“Hello,” he said suavely, leaning over the chair opposite to the seated man. “Is this seat taken?”

Silvery grey eyes met his, and Harry bit back a groan. Of course Draco fucking Malfoy had to be attractive. Why did all his assignments have to be hot men? Cedric, Blaise and now Draco-

The man in question lifted a sculpted eyebrow. “I suppose it is, now.”

The first victory was always the sweetest. “I’m Evans Granger,” he offered, taking the seat.

“Draco Malfoy. What brings you to my table, Granger?” Draco asked, disinterested as his gaze went back to his laptop screen. His accent was definitely something Harry could get used to.

“The company, I suppose.” Draco let out a non committal hum, and his eyes remained fixed on the screen of the expensive laptop in front of him.

Just then, a waitress arrived with his drink. “Your decaf soy latte with caramel and two creams, sir,” she said boredly, placing the tall fancy glass in front of him.

Harry thanked her. As he took a sip of his ridiculously expensive coffee, he caught Draco’s eyes.

“Decaf? Really?”

Harry defensively retorted, “What? It’s good.”

The blond stared at him. “You come to the best coffee shop in Paris. And you drink  _ decaf,  _ with all that excess,” he said, waving his hand at the drink. “What’s the point?”

Harry bristled. “It doesn’t matter as long as it tastes good!” And it did. The concoction was not something he planned on ordering again, especially not at Rosemerta’s, but it did taste quite good.

Draco scowled, and then pushed the cup of coffee he had been nursing across the table. “Drink that,” he challenged.

Gingerly putting his own coffee down, Harry picked up the cup. Taking a cautious sip, Harry felt his eyes widen as the velvety drink filled his mouth. The coffee was nothing like he had ever tasted before, and it didn’t have the bitter aftertaste he had come to associate with the beverage. It was flavourful, so unlike what he was used to, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from taking another sip, relishing in the cardamom that weaved in and out of every drop.

Draco coughed lightly. Blushing, Harry put down the cup and slid it back to him.

“That was divine,” he admitted, casting a forlorn glance at his now unwanted latte. Draco raised a hand, signalling to a nearby waiter.

“Yes, sir?” the man asked respectfully. Harry narrowed his eyes slightly, making a mental note. Malfoy was important, and definitely a high-profile client in this place.

“Get him the Ethiopian medium roast with cardamom.” The waiter nodded. Harry stared. Draco caught his look. “I couldn’t possibly let you suffer through that disaster after you’ve tasted what a real drink tastes like,” he said with a scoff.

“Thank you,” Harry said softly, letting a soft pink dust his cheeks. 

Draco tilted his head consideringly. “You’re English,” he stated. Harry startled, not having expected his accent to come through so easily, but nodded. 

“I am, I’m here on vacation with my twin sister,” he said. The waiter arrived with his new coffee, and he sipped it with relish.

“And how are you liking Paris so far?” Draco asked, shutting his laptop. Harry cheered internally.

“It’s a beautiful city,” he answered truthfully. “Haven’t had much of a chance to explore it yet.”

Draco looked, really looked, at the young man across the table. He seemed to be around his age, and was undeniably handsome.

“I could show you around,” he said suddenly.

Harry looked up. This was going way better than he imagined. “I would really like that,” he said shyly.

“I need to get going, but I could give you my number,” the blond offered. Harry fished out his phone and unlocked it before handing it over.

“Call me up anytime tomorrow, it’s the weekend after all,” Draco said with a wink as he stood gracefully, scooping up his bag and shouldering an expensive leather bag. He held out his hand, and when Harry went to shake it, the French man gently kissed. 

_ He has nice lips. _

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Evans,” he said with a charming smirk, and then he was gone.

  
  


____________________________

  
  


Harry took a few minutes to gather his bearings, before he walked out of the cafe. He stopped a block away, and it wasn’t long before Ron and Hermione had caught up to him.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “How’d it go?” she asked, a knowing smile on her face.

Harry gave her a half-hearted glare. “He gave me his number.”

“You’re good,” Ron said in shock. 

Harry was a little miffed. “I’m one of the best, thank you very much.”

“Sorry,” the redhead apologised. “But contact deets on the first meeting? That’s amazing.”

Harry flipped his hair around. “I know.”

  
  


____________________________

  
  


The first thing Harry did after they returned to the Burrow was begin going through the file Ron had given him. Hermione knocked on the door.

“I brought dinner,” she said, coming in with two steaming plates of Molly Weasley’s delicious food. “What have you found till now?”

“Rich daddy. Mommy was a Black.”

“Well, crap. She would have definitely taught him all the secrets of the trade,” Hermione sympathised as she took a seat next to him. 

Harry hummed as he continued flipping through the file. A businessman who took over Malfoy Enterprises at twenty-one and ensured a steady upward graph, Draco Malfoy was not going to be a piece of cake. (Or, well, he was, but not in the ways that counted.) He bit into a roll. Previous tactics were not going to work.

“What are you thinking about?”

Harry looked up at her. “He’s not going to be easy,” he confided.

Hermione smirked. “When has Harry Potter ever refused a challenge?”

  
  


____________________________

  
  


Harry woke up bright and early that Saturday morning. He had learned everything he could about the man he had arranged a date with.

The file mostly contained suspicions and reports of some shadier stuff behind the man’s business front. Nothing he could use, at the moment.

“Damn, Evans, dressed to impress,” Fred whistled when he went downstairs to get his breakfast before the pub opened. Harry simply winked at him before joining his sister where she was busily typing away on her laptop.

She tilted the screen towards him and he quickly glanced over the webpage she had pulled up.

_ Malfoy Industries is a software company that seeks to provide solutions, ranging from data analytics to data processing. _

“Wonderful. I know nothing about this techy stuff,” Harry groaned, biting into an apple.

“Fake it till you make it, brother,” Hermione advised before shutting her laptop. “Where are you meeting him?”

“The same cafe.”

Ginny Weasley walked down the stairs. Spotting the duo, she made her way to them and plopped down on a chair.

“I heard you got a date, Evans,” she said mischievously. Harry grinned, and nodded. “So, who is it with?”

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry said nonchalantly, sipping the sweet lemon tea he had been given along with his breakfast of eggs and bacon.

“Malfoy?!” Ginny’s unexpected outburst drew Ron’s attention, who had been wiping down the counter. His eyes widened and he quickly made a ‘Stop this line of conversation immediately!’ gesture, but it was too late.

“Why would you want to go on a date with that pompous prick?” Ginny demanded, lunging forward and shaking his arm. Hermione patted his other shoulder and made a move to leave.

“Hermione, why did you let your brother agree on a date with him?!”

Hermione winced. “He’s twenty three, Ginny, he makes his own decisions,” she quickly said before hastily leaving. Harry glared at her back.

“But really, Evans. Draco Malfoy is an evil, classist prick,” the redhead woman said vehemently. 

“Aren’t you being bigoted?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “For judging a man you don’t know?”

Ginny scowled. “Draco Malfoy tried to sue our establishment because his father had a riff with dad. He tried to make us lose our only source of income for a feud that wasn’t even relevant anymore!”

Harry raised an eyebrow.  _ Interesting.  _ “What did he try to sue the Burrow for?”

She frowned. “Something about not meeting food sanitation standards. That’s bull, mum’s made sure we’ve been certified every single year.”

Harry hummed. “Well, I’ll still give him a chance, maybe he’s changed?”

“Doubt it.” But Ginny did relinquish the death grip she had on his arm.

He gingerly rubbed the sore area. 

“Harry!” Hermione reappeared at the stairwell with a bag slung over one shoulder. “Let’s go check out some other places before your date!”

Harry glanced back behind him. “I expect all the details,” Ginevra Weasley said seriously.

  
  


___________________________

  
  


“You ditcher,” Harry hissed as soon as he and Hermione left the Burrow. Ron was going to join them in a minute.

Hermione had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry. I thought it would be best for you to deal with it alone.”

“This is all Ron’s fault!” Harry declared.

Ron chose that moment to appear beside them. “Was not! How was I supposed to know my sister would find out about your date?”

“She’s  _ your  _ sister. And why would you not tell us about your family history with the man?!”

Ron apologetically answered, “I didn’t know she would find out about it. And, well, it’s my job. I’m not going to let personal feuds affect the mission.”

Harry glanced at the redhead. The man was apologetic, but there was a determined glint in his eyes, something Harry could admire.

He sighed. “I have a date to get to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> Find me on my [discord!](https://discord.gg/UPCmW2r)


	4. Chapter 4

Harry sipped on his wine, nodding along to what his companion was saying while mentally going through the file he had read the previous day. 

Draco Malfoy was a puzzle, one he would take great pleasure in cracking.

“Tell me more about your company,” Harry broke the companionable silence that surrounded them for a few minutes.

Draco raised an eyebrow as he cut through his steak elegantly. “Would you be interested in that?”

Upon Harry’s affirming hum, he began to talk, and Harry listened closely, even as his mind began whirling through plans to ensnare his target.

Malfoy Tech had been founded by Lucius Malfoy, and Draco had taken over as soon as he turned twenty-one. Harry kept his ears open as the blond spoke about a few projects he’d been working on, hoping the other would slip up somewhere.

Draco was an expressive speaker, having put down his utensils and moving his elegant hands around to emphasize words as he described the newest app his R&D Department was working on.

Harry could admit that it was one of the better conversations he got to have on missions like these, as the blond paused once in a while and let him add his two cents without sneering at his words.

A static buzz made him immensely grateful for his shaggy hair, that expertly concealed the little piece of metal in his ear. 

“Pardon me for a minute,” he said with a sheepish smile when there was a lull in the conversation, jerking his head towards the restroom. Draco merely grinned and reached for his wine glass.

Harry quickly checked the stalls to make sure the bathroom was empty, before reaching for his earpiece.

“What?” he hissed.

“Intel,” Hermione’s voice crackled across. “The deal - Grindelwald’s providing the weapons to someone, alright. It’s been confirmed that they want to smuggle it into the UK.”

Harry leaned against a wall - the quality of the restaurant meant that there was thankfully no suspicious stuff on the walls.

“Which means what, exactly?” Harry asked wearily.

“We don’t just need the names of the people. You need to get to the gala.”

“...of fucking course.”

“Later, Evans.”

  
  


___________________________

  
  


Harry retook his seat with a grace that appeared only when he was not himself. Draco seemed to be going through the dessert menu.

“What would you like to have?” he asked, looking up from the thin leather-bound book and handing it over to him.

Harry glanced through the laminated pages, picking out the first thing that seemed to look good. Draco nodded and flagged down a waiter.

Harry, meanwhile, was trying to organize his thoughts. The day had been brilliant - Draco had driven him around Paris and they had visited several beautiful places. The blond was an excellent guide, and Harry had to admit that he had had a lot of fun, even as he was gathering every tidbit of information that he could.

But there was nothing else he could do as dinner drew to an end and Draco was holding open the door of his silver Audi to drive him home. As Draco climbed in behind the wheel, a flash went through Harry’s mind.

“Today’s been amazing,” he said honestly as Draco backed out of the parking lot. “You know what would make it better?”

A blonde eyebrow lifted, and Draco let out an inquisitive hum.

“You should take me to the Eiffel Tower,” Harry said cheekily. 

Draco let out a startled laugh. “Want to complete all the cliches?” he asked with a quick glance.

“Yes. Besides, it’s said to be quite beautiful, and I don’t want to miss it.”

Chuckling, Draco nodded. “For today, your wish is my command.”

Harry turned away to gaze outside the window, schooling his expression to hide his triumphant smile. He knew exactly which route Draco was going to take to reach their destination, seeing as they had been driving away from it for the past few minutes, and it was time to get to work.

  
  


___________________________

  
  


Harry had timed his request perfectly - the route Draco was going to take would ensure they drove right past the Marriot Rive Gauche. 

A few minutes of silence later, Harry leaned forward as the glass building came into sight - it looked breathtaking in the night scene, and Harry could see why it was the chosen spot for the gala.

“The Marriot Rive Gauche,” Draco confirmed when he noticed Harry staring at the hotel.

“Ah yes, the gala. I hope it meets the expectations.”

“You were invited?”

“Well, yeah, it’s why my sister and I came to Paris at such a time of the year!”

Draco nearly crashed into a lamp post. “What?!” he quickly steered back on track.

Harry glanced at him coyly. “What did you think I came to Paris for? Odd time of the year for a  _ vacation,  _ don’t you think?”

Draco coughed lightly. “Well, yes, but the gala is for influential individuals,” he said haughtily. “I’ve never heard of the Grangers in politics or any business.”

_ Oops. Good thing Harry did best under pressure. _

“But of course, I didn’t use my adoptive parents’ name.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, but kept his eyes on the road. “Really? What name  _ did  _ you use, then?”

“That would be telling,” the raven said mischievously. “Let’s see, Draco Malfoy, if you can figure it out by yourself.”

“Game on, Granger.”

  
  


___________________________

  
  
  


“You asked the son of a  _ Black  _ to track you down - Harry, why on earth would you do that?!” Hermione screeched silently. Harry idly wondered how she managed it.

“I needed to give him something to think about!”

“And what, you’re planning to break into his apartment and look for the invitation?”

Harry blinked at her. “Am I supposed to not do that?” he asked innocently.

Hermione thunked her head on the wooden table in front of her.

  
  


___________________________

  
  


“8th Arrondissement, Boccador,” Ron said as he noted the location of the tracker Harry had placed on Malfoy’s car. “The apartment has got guards, and nine floors with three houses on each floor. His house is on the eighth floor. We’ve managed to set up security cameras in the building and outside his house, but haven’t yet managed to get into his flat.”

Harry chewed on his lower lip in thought. “The place is also famous for its shopping centres. I could always bump into him there. And invite myself over.”

Hermione facepalmed. “Harry, how are you going to bump into him when we don’t have his schedule?”

Harry sent her a look. “Mione, there’s a reason I’m good at my job.” He pulled out a small earpiece.

“You didn’t-”

Harry clicked play.

_ “No, Blaise, if your girlfriend wants to go shopping then why do I have to come along?”  _ Draco Malfoy’s disgruntled voice crackled through.

“How did you-”

“I left a mic on my seat when I left for the bathroom. I didn’t expect him to get a phone call, but my luck is excellent as always.”

_ “I don’t care! It’s your girlfriend.” A rustle. Then his voice came through again, “Zabini, you call me when I’m on a date, to ask me to go shopping with you. Why did you think I would say yes?! …..so? …….okay, fine! Harry’s coming back so don’t call me again - …….FINE! I’ll be at Montaigne’s corner.” _

Silence.

Hermione spoke up after a few minutes, “Harry, your luck is absolutely unbelievable!”

“I know right?!” 

Ron coughed to hide a chuckle as Hermione reached for a pillow to smack her cheeky brother. 

“I guess our plans for tomorrow are set?”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, before swiftly turning around and smacking Harry upside the head.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“For being a cheeky brat!”


End file.
